A VERSEBOOK 



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Class _:P_S_^i±i 



Book-^iX^iVl 



Copight)^". 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



VERSEBOOK 



BY 



Webster Perit Huntington. 



Columbus, hio: 
Press of Fred. J. Hee» 
1904 



1 LIBRARY of CO'fiiREiS 
Two Copies Rtfcejy«wj 

UiiC 21 iyU4 

CUSS C2, XXc NO! 

J -^ S I 3 
COPY B. 



-fS 



^si 



u'^ 






Copyright, 1904, 
By Fred. J. Heer. 



(Tontents 



PAGE. 

Holly 3 

Whistlin' On The Pump 5 

''Bless Everybody" 8 

Dearest Beloved 10 

Hard Cider 12 

W. D. W 18 

My Composite Boy 20 

Retribution 23 

Rehoboam 25 

To The Baby 27 

I Turn To Thee 29 

How BuTRiCK Hired the Pew 32 

Lincoln 42 

In The Cemetery At Norwich 44 

"How Much Do I Love You?" 49 

To An Old Valentine 52 

The Prayer Of The Seeker 54 

"Playing Bear" 56 

Under Which God?^ 59 

iii 



Contents 



PAGE. 

The Baby's Trunk 72 

monadnock 76 

One Year 78 

BoAZ To Ruth 80 

To A Sleeping Child 82 

The Gain Of Living 85 

To A Bride 86 

Art Against Nature . . . , 88 

To A 90 

Hush Bye-Bye 92 

The Son Of Man 95 

To G. G. R 99 

McKinley 101 

Why Santa Claus Cried 104 

The Mystery 108 

The Editor 110 

Not Mine 114 

The Author To His Critics 116 

The Deserted Homestead 117 

My Mother's Portrait 120 

The Bolster's Club 121 

Three Voices 127 



IV 



H Derse Booh 




KEEN leaves for Life Eternal — Life 
that flows 
Above, around, below, a silent tide, 
In Summer's sunny fields, 'midst Win- 
ter's snows 
And thrills the stars and all the hosts that ride 
Where Time and Space their endless vigils keep ; 
Green leaves for life for thee and me, 
For all we are, for all we hope to be — 
Green leaves forever vernal, 
Green leaves for Life Eternal! 

Red berries for Love and faith of human hearts- 
Deep red, with ev'ry fibre all aflame — 

As crimsoned with the tingling blood that starts 
To mount the cheek of modesty or shame — 

Tint of the firmament at sunset hour ! 
3 



Iboilv 



Red berries for Sympathy aglow, 

For Charity that healeth so — 

For Hght and warmth beneath, above — 
Red berries for Hope and Love ! 

Berries red and leaves of green entwined 

Are tokens sweet that Life and Love are wed 
That both are infinite and both are kind, 

By faith unto the Father's altar led, 
With all the years and centuries their own ! 
Green leaves for life for thee and me, 
For all we are, for all we hope to be — 
Green leaves for Life Eternal, 
Berries red for Love that's vernal! 



Mbi0tlin* on tbe pump 




STRAGGLIN' into our back yard — 
his hands his pockets in. 
His mind all free from worry and his 
soul all free from sin — 
I remember how he used to come, some minutes 

''before school," 
And notify the folks at home that he had "time 

to fool," 
By whistlin' up a dismal tune, like any idle 

gump, 
While twistin' his two legs around my father's 
pea-green pump. 

I remember how my hunger fled whene'er I 
heard his notes, 

Like nightingales', soar upward as from a thou- 
sand throats; 

5 



Mbtstltn' on tbe pump 



And how my father would depose and most 

austerely state 
That, although "Mort" was whistlin', I could 

wisely let him wait. 
But such advice was lost on me, for I was on 

the jump, 
When my old pardner was out there, a-whistlin' 

on the pump. 

Lord, how the buckwheats lost their charm and 

syrup all its sweet, 
Which at any other moment not nothin' else 

could beat! 
How cold indoors th' ungrateful world would 

suddenly appear. 
When music underneath the porch proclaimed 

that "Mort" was near! 
There may be joy that makes your heart go 

thump ! and thump ! and thump ! 
6 



XimbtatUn* on tbe pump 



But none like that when my old pard was whist- 
lin' on the pump. 

Since then I've heard some music, that cost much 
more to hear 

And was really seductive to an educated ear; 

And I've shown enthusiasm by joining in ap- 
plause, 

When the spirit truly moved me from a truly 
earnest cause ; 

But no remembrance of it all produces that queer 
lump 

That catches me, when I recall "Mort's" whist- 
lin' on the pump. 



S5Ie00 jeveri?bo&i?'' 




CURLY head bowed on my knee, 
A little form ail clad in white, 
Two dimpled hands clasped rever- 
ently — 
And God receives the last "Goodnight" ! 
No hour so solemn, none so sweet, 

No scene of innocence so fair 
As this, when Faith and Childhood meet 
And know each other in a prayer. 

Not blessings born of men she asks — 

Petitions for herself alone — 
Not countless treasures, easy tasks, 

A harvest reaped, though nothing sown; 
Not happiness nor length of days, 

Nor peace nor pleasure is the plea — 

Not even for a mother's praise, 

However sweet it seem to be. 
8 



Bless lEvct^bo^^ 



For those she loves this Httle child 

In tender accents intercedes, 
As if our hearts were reconciled 

To make contentment of our needs. 
A blessing on each one of kin, 

And then, — Love's banner all unfurl'd, 
As if to take Creation in — 

"Bless Everybody in the world!" 

Bless all the world? O gentle heart. 

That throbs not with one selfish thrill, 
That isolates no soul apart, 

Forebodes no living creature ill ; 
The incense from thy altar place 

High in the clouds is wreathed and curl'd, 
To bear the message of thy grace 

To "everybody in the world !" 



2)eare0t Bcloveb 




EAREST beloved, fair be the skies that 
give Hght to thy day, 
Warm be the sun that looks down to 
crown thee with halos of beauty; 
Dearest beloved, sweet as the moment our love 

found the way 
Be all of thy life, my dear one, — this I hope, 
this I pray ! 

Brave heart and true heart, thine is the faith 

of the conquering soul, 
Deep as the light of thine eyes whose eloquence 

telleth the story; 
Dearest beloved, whither the waves of thy life's 

waters roll 
Is the shore of my hope, my darling, — my far 

home, my sweet goal ! 
10 



Dearest Bclovcb 



Whether our journey lies in the valleys of dark- 
ness or light, 

Leading away to the sun or down to the gather- 
ing shadows, 

Dearest beloved, the star of our love still glam- 
ours the Night 

For the children of Him, my sweetheart, who 
are one in His sight. 

So, my beloved, fair are our skies, be it night, 

be it day; 
Warm is the sun or the star that crowns thee 

with halos of beauty; 
Dearest beloved, such are the paths where our 

love finds the way 
For this life and the next, my dear one — this 

we know while we pray ! 



11 



Ibarb Ciber 




ALK not to me of wines from France, 
from Italy and Spain — 
The like of tliat hard cider I shall never 
quaff again. 
Had such a treat Olympus known, and Bacchus 

held full sway, 
This nectar for the gods had been — Ambrosia, 

thrown away ! 
The German's beer, the Frenchman's wine, the 

Englishman's old ale 
Are doubtless good enough for some, but me 

they can't regale; 
The pulque of old Mexico, the Chinaman and 

his tea, 
Avaunt ! hard cider reigns supreme — not one 

of 'em for me! 



12 



Ibart) Ct^er 



A hundred years its casks have stood in rows 

far under ground, 
Replenished ev'ry Autumn as the season made 

its round; 
The earthen floor is cool and dry, the walls are 

three feet through. 
And just to ripen there is all that cider has to do! 
No wonder that the oaken staves a century have 

sung 
Its praises in that cellar, from the spigot to the 

bung, 
While spiders of an ancestry long numbered with 

the dead 
Have weaved four generations' webs 'twixt the 

rafters overhead ! 
You can talk of all the drinkables that ever were 

turned loose, 
But when that cider starts to flow — well, neigh- 
bor, what's the use? 
13 



1bar^ di^ct 



Its aroma is the ecstacy of flowers when they 
dream 

Of the mingled joy and sweetness of meadow, 
wood and stream ; 

Its sheen is Hke the diamond, and its pale, pel- 
lucid hue 

Like a pearl beneath the waters, with the sun- 
light flashing through ; 

Its gurgle is the music of the ripple in the 
brook, 

Where the speckled trout is innocent of fisher- 
man or hook ; 

Its flavor — indescribable, unmatched, beyond 
compare — 

Drink! and behold your true love, apple blos- 
soms in her hair ! 

Not a headache in a barrel, not a drop to bring 
remorse, 



14 



fbar^ Cibev 



It warms your human sympathies and gives you 
moral force. 

There is no war that cider will not quickly make 
a truce, 

But when one tries to sing its praise, one won- 
ders what's the use. 

In the fields it helps the farm-hands to pitch the 
new-mown hay 

And lightens all the labors of a tedious, toil- 
some day; 

At noon it cheers the spirit when sipped beneath 
the shade. 

And when the glow of eve'ning tinges pasture, 
grove and glade 

There is nothing like that cider to prove the 
final test 

And compose the mind and body for the grate- 
ful hours of rest. 
15 



Ibar^ Ci^cv 



But, most of all, when Winter's snows drift deep 

around the door 
And the children are a-roUin' around the kitchen 

floor, 
And the logs within the fire-place have turned 

to living coals, 
And all the world seems made for joy to give 

to human souls ; 
Then, when David tunes the fiddle and Martha 

pops the corn, 
You feel almighty lucky that you were ever born 
To mingle with your fellowmen and pass around 

the mug 
That ends that cider's journey from the barrel 

to the jug. 
You can talk of all the comfort that ever was 

let loose, 
But under such conditions — v/ell, honest, v/hat's 

the use? 

16 



Ibarb Ct^et 



So not for me is wine from France, from Italy 

or Spain — 
The like of that hard cider I shall never quaff 

again. 
The German's beer, the Frenchman's wine, the 

Englishman's old ale 
Are doubtless good enough for some, but me 

they can't regale; 
The pulque of old Mexico, the Chinaman and 

his tea^ 
They all may to the devil go — not one of 'em 

for me! 



17 




MAN of such surpassing grace 

That kings might envy his address ; 

Whose acts for ev'ry time and place 
A perfect fitness do possess ; 



A man of pure and ready wit 

Whose shafts are free from poisoned stain, 
But strike where they are aimed to hit 

And leave no rancor and no pain. 

A man of such unselfish heart. 

Of mind so lofty and serene, 
Who knoweth manhood more than art 

And hath no unclean thought to screen ; 

A man of patience strangely rare, 
Forgiving, gentle, kind and just; 
18 



m. 2). m, 



Bold in the right, but swift to spare, 
Quick to uphold, slow to distrust; 

A stranger to unseemly pride 

Or afifectation's poor deceit; 
In sorrow and afflction tried, 

He drank the bitter and the sweet. 

A man of such superior mould 
As all that's base soars far above ; 

Who daily doth some charm unfold 
To win a friend's unselfish love. 

That is a friend of mine. — His name? 

Ah, that is not for me to tell. 
If thou hast known him, his fair fame 

Will teach thee that thou know'st it well. 



19 



flDl? Compoeite T&o^ 



CAN'T make out his elder ways — 
This boy of mine, this man of ten, 
Who wreathes the flow'rs of childish days 
In gardens far beyond our ken. 
Howe'er he sits or talks or broods, 

With thoughtful brow or twinkling eye, 
I find in all his changing moods 
Some long forgotten memory. 

Thus, if his thought be gently sad, 

He folds his hand together — so 
For all the world as, when a lad, 

I saw his grandma years ago ; 
And when he speaks I hear once more 

Another's softer monotone, 
That proves the truth from days of yore — 

He is his mother's very own. 
20 



/ID^ Composite Bo^ 



In peevish anger o'er a fret 

Such as I wish would never be, 
I see, with natural regret, 

A gesture that is "just Hke me." 
And when he's aired his father's airs 

And stalked off with a stately tread, 
You'd swear it were upon the stairs 

My father going up to bed. 

That merry eye from Uncle Frank, 

That stalwart frame from Uncle Ed, 
And with his Uncle Tom to thank 

For some distinguishments of head ; 
The wit that was his grandsire's joy, 

His other grandpa's searching mind — 
All this in my composite boy 

Daily and hourly I find. 



21 



/Ib^ Composite Bop 



His love of humor, shown in jokes 

He loves so well to gravely crack, 
Is just like that of older folks 

And dates some generations back. 
So, be his temper mild or gay — 

Passion, laughter, tears or sighs — 
At fall of night or break of day 

It comes from strange infinities. 



22 




IRetribution 

NDER Thy roof, dear God. under Thy 
roof, 
Here in the star-Ht night alone, 
I hear the voice of Thy reproof — 
"Atone! Atone!" 
Atone for what, dear God? I do not know, 
I am so weak, so poor, so low — 

But still the voice I know Thine own — 
"Atone !" 

Under thy roof, dear home, under thy roof, 
Here by the firelight's glow alone, 

I hear the voice of thy reproof — 
"Atone ! Atone !" 

Atone for what, dear home? I hesitate, 

Thy message comes so strange, so late — 

But still the voice I know thine own — 

"Atone!" 

23 



IRetrtbutton 



So star-lit sky and fire-side's fitful glow 

Reproach the hours forever flown. 
Hark! from the tide's receding flow, 

''Atone! Atone!" 
Strive or surrender, gird thyself or yield. 
Against one word thine ear is never steeled 
For still the Voice to thee alone — 
"Atone!" 



24 




IReboboam 

Kir Cbronlclcs, 11*23 

OOD Rehoboam was a king 

Who reigned in days of yore; 
His household numbered ''eighteen 

wives," 
And "concubines threescore." 



For 'twas a custom honored then, 
More oft, indeed, than now, 

For kings and courtiers to take 
A frequent marriage vow. 

And this kind of extravagance 
Was sometimes overdone. 

So that a man with consorts ten 
Oft wished for only one. 

25 



IReboboam 



But Rehoboam, we are told, 

"Desired many wives;" 
And that they rued it or complained 

No evidence survives. 

And thus the king, so Scripture saith, 

''Dealt wisely" many years ; 
And when he died he well deserved 
His eighteen widows' tears. 



2« 



^0 tbe Bab^ 




HILD of the morning, whence comest 

thou here, 
With a gasp and a struggle, a sob and 
a tear — 
From the North, from the South, from the East, 

from the West, 
Nestled close in her arms on thy fond mother's 

breast ? 
Hast thou come from the realm of the Silent 

Unknown ? 
The journey is long — didst thou come all alone? 

Thine eyes are as blue as the waves of the deep, 
Thy brow is as fair as an angel's in sleep ; 
Thy skin is as soft as the velvety down 
Of the flowers that bloom 'neath a sunshiny 
crown. 

27 



TLo tbe 3Bab^ 



Who sent thee? Who marked thee for Earth 

and its woe, 
Its joy and its sorrow ? — Canst tell ? — Dost thou 

know ? 

Sweet child, there is knowledge that passeth our 

ken; 
There is wisdom not given the children of men. 
We grope in the darkness like slaves of the night ; 
Our fancy is folly — we know not its flight. 
Thou art come, thou art gone; whether distant 

or near, 
We only can know thee how precious, how dear ! 



28 




11 Zmn to Zbcc 

HEN heart falters and darkness clings, 
When Hope flutters on helpless 
wings, 
When Shame whispers in words that 
burn, 
Then, Love, 'tis then to thee I turn ; 
For flowers that languish are kissed by the sun. 
And love without anguish shall never be won — 
To thee, Love, to thee, dear heart, I flee — 
To thee, dear heart, I turn to thee. 
Though days be full of sorrow 
There comes a sweet to-morrow — 

The dawn I see 
And turn to thee. 

When Faith wanders on trackless shores, 
Pity knocking at thrice-barred doors, 
29 



IT Uurn to Ubee 



When no beacon these eyes discern, 
Then, Love, 'tis then to thee I turn. 
Lo, if thou harkest, the lost find the way, 
And hours that are darkest give place to the 
day — 
To thee, Love, to thee my only plea — 
To thee, dear heart, I turn to thee ; 
Forsaken, stricken, lonely, 
• Thou savest, and thou only — 

On bended knee 
I turn to thee. 

Fluttering Hope, on helpless wing. 
Shame's reproach or Doubt's dread sting, 
Still for one grace to pray, to yearn — 
This, Love, to thee that I may turn. 
Thou seest how broken the worn heart may come 
For one gentle token — thou wilt not be dumb ! — 
To thee. Love, to thee my penance be — 
30 



ir Unxn to trbee 



To thee, dear heart, I turn to thee! 

Though days be full of sorrow 

God send a new to-morrow — 

The dawn I see 
And turn to thee. 



31 



Ibow Butrick Ibireb tbc Jbew 




HE apples in the orchards bkished red 
upon the ground, 
The trees were almost leafless, and the 
melancholy sound 

Of the winds that rocked their branches in the 
quiet village street 

Told the story of the season when Fall and Win- 
ter meet. 

In the barns the golden harvest filled each cranny 
and each nook, 

And the cows at eventide assumed a most expec- 
tant look; 

The winter's wood was high and dry beneath the 
bulging shed, 

And the cider in the cellar shamed the wine when 
it is red. 



32 



1bow Butrtcl? Ibttet) tbe pew 

In the ample fire-place nightly the pine logs blazed 

away, 
When the lamps flashed through the windows 

their farewell to the day ; 
The snow-topped hills stood sentinel for the 

sleepy, dreamy vales, 
And the hamlet's champion liar began to polish 

up his tales. 
The housewife beamed upon the world and 

thanked her lucky stars 
That her summer's work was over and her best 

fruit all in jars, 
While her good man plied the jack-knife before 

the village store 
And the government got the profit of his economic 

lore. 



33 



Ibow Butttcft IbireD tbe pew 

This was the happy season of a memorable year 

When Old Bill Butrick packed his duds, sup- 
ported front and rear 

By vast supplies of Medford rum, old bourbon, 
rye and gin, 

And sallied forth for Swanzey, where he'd bought 
the village inn. 

Gruff, grizzled, gray and gaunt of form, with 
brains beneath his hat, 

Old Bill was of that human kind that's used to 
standin' pat. 

His voice was like a trumpet's, and he always 

said his say, 
Notwithstandin' it seemed husky a mile or two 

away; 
An eagle eye, a horny hand, but a true and honest 

heart 



34 



Ibow Butrtch Ibtret) tbe ipew 

That wouldn't wrong a child, but always took 
the weaker part ; 

No pedigree was needed to label Bill a Yank 

And show for what he had or was he had him- 
self to thank. 

Society in those good days up in the Granite 
Hills 

Had found the ideal way to live and banished 
all its ills, 

For the temperance folk had all the law that any 
one could choose. 

While the natives unregenerate had all they 
wished of booze ; 

And you may bet Bill Butrick was takin' nary a 
chance 

When he bought the inn at Swanzey and sur- 
veyed this circumstance. 



35 



Ibovv JButrtcft Ibireb tbe pew 

The snow lay deep before his door, ere Bill had 

settled down 
And entered on the honors of a citizen of the 

town; 
He was suave among the women and solid with 

the men, 
But just across the highway was the village 

church, and when 
He daily saw the parson driving by in pious state, 
He felt there still was something he must ne- 
gotiate. 
Ah, me! 'tis many a year agone I heard him 

tell the tale, 
But it's just as good as yesterday and never 

will grow stale. 

One sunny, wintry mornin' Bill was trudgin' up 
the road, 



36 



Ibow BiitticF? IbireD tbe pew 

When the parson's sleigh plunged 'round the 

bend with no more of a load 
Than the reverend gent himself, a-tuggin' at the 

lines, 
While the horse, fresh clipped for winter, was 

cuttin' monkey shines. 
''This here is where I play a hand," says Bill, but 

said no more, 
As the parson's nag was rearin' up as ne'er he'd 

reared before. 
A dash across a snowdrift, an arm shot through 

the air. 
And the ministerial animal was in Bill Butrick's 

care. 
"God bless you. Brother B'utrick," the frightened 

pastor gasped, 
As William's mighty fingers the bit and bridle 

clasped ; 



37 



Ibow JButricft Ibireb tbe pew 

''You came within the nick of time, a providential 

guide, 
And, now the beast is quieted, won't you jump 

in and ride?" 

Would Bill jump in and ride? Well, will a 

porpoise swim? 
Will a patriot take the money when the pot be- 
longs to him? 
So it befell that presently the two sat side by 

side, 
Bill's face expandin' in a smile no man could tell 

how wide; 
And, as the parson seemed to be in meditation 

lost, 
Bill diplomatically asked what a pew in church 

would cost. 
"Ten dollars a year? No more than that? I'll 

give it twice !" he yelled, 
38 



1bow Butrlcl? Ibtreb tbe pew 



While both at once his ribbons and his breath the 
parson held. 

"I'm not a man," Old Bill went on, "of super- 
abundant wealth, 

And I haven't come to Swanzey entirely for my 
health ; 

But, darn my skin, I'm one of them that knows 
a thing or two 

And understand Religion has a heap of work to 
do! 

"But" — growing confidential — "I'm not much 
on the pray, 

Although my wife and daughter — why they're 
nat'ally built that way ! 

I want the women folks to roost right on the 
pearly gate, 

And, if the pew rent's modest, there's the con- 
tribution plate ! 



1bow IButricft IbtreC) tbe pew 

There ain't no mean streak any man has ever 

found in me, 
And, long as parsons has to eat, Salvation can't 

be free!" 

So Bill kept pounding all the way — 'twas like 

a gatling gun — 
And when they reached the tavern door he had 

the parson won. 
"An uncouth man," he argued, **but meaning 

well, I'm sure, — 
Heav'n knows the times are hard enough and the 

congregation poor." 
Bill clambered out, the two shook hands, the 

steed again was gone ; 
The parson waved his hand while Bill be- 

nignantly looked on. 
"Remember," was his parting shot, as the sleigh 

began to lurch, 

40 



Ibow Jfeutticfe Ibtret) tbe t>c\^ 

"I want the Amen Corner and the best damned 
pew in church!" 

I assume that still in Swanzey some pastor fights 

with sin, 
And some open-hearted landlord still keeps the 

village inn; 
But there ne'er will be another like Bill Butrick 

in that town, 
Nor a parson so discerning to write his pew 

rent down. 



41 



Xlncoln 




ARK were the clouds that hovered over 

thee, 

Dear land, deep the encircling gloom, 

Blasted the fate of blood-bought Liberty, 

Wide yawned the nation's waiting tomb ; 

When from the West, whither thy fortune ran. 

Up from the woods and plains God raised a Man. 

The wild bird takes its long, unerring flight, 
By what strange guidance none shall say ; 

Stars in their endless courses ride the Night, 
Sunbeams unfold the curtained Day; 

Waves of the ocean find the distant shore, 

Winds of the trackless air blow evermore. 

No inspiration, faith or prophecy 
The ways of Providence reveals ; 
42 



Xlncoln 



No miracle from Life's deep mystery 
Its dearly treasured secret steals : 
Who holds it in the hollow of His hand, 
He, only He, can see and understand. 

Spirit of Lincoln, giv'n a while to men, 
To teach and save, thy mission o'er, 

His voice it was that called thee once again, 
And softly through the open door 

Of starry ways, miraculous, led on — 

And nations bowed their heads when thou wert 
gone. 



43 



11 n tbe Cemeteri? at IRorwicb 



N ev'ry soul there is a tender strain 

That wakes and echoes, when the hand 
of Time 

Draws from the heart a mild and sweet 
refrain 
That rises from some memory sublime. 

So have I felt, when drawn by pensive thought 
My footsteps bore me from the hillside down, 

Midst massive rocks that years have never 
wrought 
A change in, to the graveyard of the town, 

That quaint and ancient village of the hills, 
Where my forefathers, wandering, first took 
heed 



44 



IFn tbe Cemetery at IRorwtcb 

It was a lovely spot, free from the ills 

That they had fled — a place of rest, indeed. 

For these were men of such heroic mould 
As feared no outward danger, shunned no toil ; 

The liberty of conscience more than gold 

They strove to find on new and untried soil. 

What was to them the forest's loneliness, 
If thought were free and persecution past ; 

If tyranny ceased longer to oppress. 

And life endured with honor to the last? 

To seek the truth where they thought most to 
find; 

To worship God as they conceived it best. 
And teach the priceless lesson to mankind, 

Was all the simple mission of their quest. 



45 



•ffn tbe demeter^ at IFlotwicb 

The trackless plain should know the reaper's 
blade, 
The hard rock 3^ield its wealth of treasured 
store, 
And boundless woodland's dark, forbidding shade 
Should hide the bosom of the earth no more. 

The startled breeze that bore the warrior's cry, 
And bound the ears that heard it with a spell, 

Should serve instead with each delicious sigh 
The tranquil victories of peace to tell. 

The spot that marked the wild beast's hidden lair 
Should blossom as a garden decked with 
flow'rs. 

Where mothers' eyes might note with tender care 
The happy flight of children's playful hours. 

With such a purpose these bold pioneers 
Braved all that evil Fortune might ordain ; 
46 



irn tbe Cemetery at Horwlcb 

Too noble to retreat, too stern for tears, 
They never learned to falter or complain. 

How well their work was done the years' swift 
flight 
Hath proven unto us who follow them; 
How well they labored in the cause of Right, 
And gave to Freedom's crown its brightest 
gem. 

No eulogy can add unto their fame. 

Nor praise their simple merit magnify; 

In death they leave no heritage of shame, 
But rather teach us how to live and die. 

Thus here they share at last the common lot 
Of all who earn from earthly cares release; 

Their happiness within this grassy plot 
To know the rest of everlasting peace. 
47 



irn tbe Cemeteri^ at IRorwicb 

O God inscrutable, if Thou didst speak 
And call them from this city of the dead, 

In mercy send their spirits to the weak, 
Who need by their example to be led. 



48 



44 



Ibow fiDucb 2)0 II Xove l?ou? 



(4 




OW much do I love you?" ''Stacks ?" 
''Whole heaps?" 
You tease of loving, shall I tell? 
If my poor heart the problem keeps 
Tvv^ill solve it quickly, solve it w^ell ; 
And thus forever we shall know 
Whether I love you thus or so, 
As you would have me love, my sweet, 
With tenderness and ardor meet — 
As you would have me love. 



How much do I love you? Count the sands 

And measure the good Earth's wealth of gold ; 
Cull all the flowers of all the lands 

Where Love's sweet story was ever told : 
And then forever we shall know 
Whether I love you thus or so, 
49 



**1bow /IDucb Do IT %ovc ]3ou?'' 

As you would have me love, my own, 
Were we in the wide vvorld all alone — 
As you would have me love. 

Measure the shaft of the sun's swift ray, 

Pursue the crest of the ocean's wave ; 
Call back each moment of ev'ry day 

Wherein Love proved his power to save ; 
And then forever we shall know 
Whether I love you thus or so, 
As you would have me, little one. 
Though chill the gloom or warm the sun- 
As you would have me love. 

Follow the wild bird's trackless flight, 
Summon the dead from the green hillside ; 

Turn dawn to gloaming, day to night. 
Or stay the flood of the rising tide: 



50 



**1bow /IDucb Bo IF %ovc ^oxxV 

And then forever we shall know 
Whether I love you thus or so, 
With constancy of love, dear heart, 
In all our lives the better part, 
As you would have me love. 

Far in the Infinite this love. 

Heir of Eternity, had birth ; 
And naught beneath, around, above, 

'Twixt Life and Death, or Heav'n and Earth, 
Can tell us what you seek to know. 
Whether I love you thus or so, 
Save 'tis as you would have me, sweet, 
With tenderness and ardor meet — 
As vou would have me love. 



51 



^0 Hn ®l& IDalentine 




EAR LIZZIE, long years of a heart's 
admiration 
Have left it as young in its faith as 
of old. 
So be it, I dare to invite commendation 

Of a story still new, though eternally told — 
To-wit : To woo 
Is proof that I am true; 
I surely know I think it so — 
Do you ? 

Dear Lizzie, the flowers we gathered in youth, 
Though drooping, retain the sv/eet fragrance 
of yore ; 
And some that were buds have unfolded, 
forsooth, 
With a message now dearer than ever before — 
52 



Zo Un ©!^ IDalenttne 



To-wit : To woo 
Still tells that I am true; 
I surely know I think it so — 
Do you ? 

Dear Lizzie, 'tis wit that makes suitable wooing — 

To-wit : Of the kind so distinctively thine, 
In the absence of which would occur my undoing 
And ruin the import of this Valentine — 
To-wit : To woo 
Is best for me and you ; 
I surely know I think it so — 
Don't you? 



53 



^be ipraijer of tbe Secfter 




ORD, Thou art merciful — be Thou my 
guide ; 
Teach me, Hke Noah, to walk by Thy 
side. 

The pathway about me is dark with the night — 
Set Thou before me Thy pillar of light; 
Though dust turn to dust, my faith and my trust 
Shall conquer, if Thou lead my footsteps aright. 

Mine is the weakness and Thine is the pow'r — 
Give me Thy counsel in each troubled hour ; 
On infinite mercy I gladly rely — 
Let not Thy Spirit, unmoved, pass me by ; 
From Doubt grant release, and send, Lord, Thy 

peace 
To even a creature unworthy as L 



54 



Ubc pta^r of tbe Seeker 

Thou knowest my needs — supply them, I pray ; 
Strengthen my faith, my dark fears allay; 
Show me Thy Fatherhood, help me to feel 
That Thou hast provided for ev'ry appeal, 
So my soul shall proclaim the wonderful Name 
That, breathed unto Heaven, is mighty to heal! 



55 




SCUFFLE, a growl, a childish cry, 
A clatter of feet on the stair, 
And three litde forms go whisking 
by- 

That means that papa is ''playing bear!" 
Helter, skelter and down they come 

In a heap on the parlor floor — 
Lord help the neighbors, if any are glum 
Because "children are always a bore!" 

Aground and around each figure flees, 

Exploding with shrieks of mirth. 
As if a big man on hands and knees 

Were the funniest thing on earth. 
A pause for breath, and then a yawl, 

Disclosing his frightful teeth, 



56 



pla^lno Bear** 



That surely proves to the minds of all 
That Bruin is on his native heath. 

There's six-year-old, who runs and hides, 

A little worn 'twixt sport and fear ; 
It's fun, of course, yet she decides 

That even this bear can come too near. 
There's five-year-old — a strapping lad — 

Despite the attack, is undismayed. 
Proclaims the bear's behavior bad. 

But still affirms he's not afraid; 

While three-year-old gives up the fray 
With looks of something nigh to grief : 

At "playing bear" she's had her day — 
It's just as well to make it brief. 

A sudden hushing of the noise, 
Some words to calm excited fears. 



S7 



Iplaptng Bear*' 



While the bear regains his equipoise 
And kisses take the place of tears. 

Ah, me ! so it is with my three own, 

As it should be everywhere, 
Vv^hen older folk forget they're grown 

And happy children still ''play bear." 
To be, to bear — 'tis all our weal. 

And "playing bear" is a part. 
Who as a child again can feel 

Shall be never a bear at heart! 



58 




lan&er Mbicb (Sob? 

21 /Ifteiican 3Fanci2 

AIR was the scene the tropic plain 
Presented to the hosts of Spain, 
When on their startled vision rolled, 
In hues of amber and of gold, 

The Aztec fields of waiving maize, 

Touched by the purple in the haze, 

Which, far as human eye could scan, 

Bore down beyond Tenochtitlan 

Upon the everlasting snow 

That crowned the crests of Mexico. 

Between, the city and her towers, 

Her pyramids and leafy bowers. 

Her broad canals, like silver thread 

Weaved in a woof of green and red. 

And at her feet with ceaseless break. 

The waters of Tezcuco's lake. 
59 



Tanber Wibicb (Bob ? 



With greedy eyes the motley band 
Drank in the beauty of the land — 
A princely realm, indeed, to bring 
To Romish pope or Spanish king ! 

So came they with a double view, 
Out of the old world into the new. 
Far from the loved Castilian shore 
Many an one should see no more. 
Stranger mission had never been — 
Hosts of piety and of sin. 
Drawn from the cloister and the camp. 
The hooded monk and armored scamp — 
The victim of the robber knight 
The priest should make a proselyte. 
Come tempest, cold, starvation, flood. 
Though streams should swell with human blood, 
Though plains should tremble, cities fail 
And Madness mock at Mercy's call; 



tan&er Mbtcb Oob ? 



Though sword should cleave and fire consume, 
Though desert waste blot out the bloom 
Of fairest lands beneath the sun — 
Fit carnival for the Infernal One — 
The Church should have the holy gain 
And all the gold belong to Spain ! 

"Believe or die!" the edict fell 
Upon the half-dazed infidel, 
Who to the loss of gods and home 
Must add his bondage unto Rome. 
So came they, with a curse and prayer 
To utter none but they would dare ; 
By pious faith and avarice spurred, 
To massacre and spread the Word ; 
To tear the heathen altars down, 
To steal the heathen Emperor's crown, 
To count no human life a loss 
Beyond the shadow of the Cross ; 
61 



Tlln^er Mbicb (Bob ? 



To name the hours an ill-spent day 
Wherein they failed to save or slay ! 

To prove an object so benign 
What more could be a fitting sign 
Than that the King himself should kneel, 
A captive to their Christian zeal ? 
And so in Montezuma's ear 
The missionary-cavalier, 
Cortez, poured all his ardent heart, 
With equal show of faith and art ; 
And what he failed to represent 
The priest put in the argument. 

"Abjure thy gods, O mighty King, 
"Else from their temples we shall fling 
"Thy horrid idols in the dust ! 
"Lo, in thy hands this sacred trust 



62 



tanker Mbtcb (Bob t 



"We place: That thou shalt lead the way 

'Tor all thy people, in the day 

"Thy pledge we take forevermore 

"Unto the One whom we adore. 

"Steeped in the blood of thine own kin, 

"Thy deities are foul with sin ; 

"Their music is the awful cries 

"Of victims of the sacrifice, 

"And for each gory heathen rite 

"They send thee only death and blight. 

"For these we give thee life and hope — 

"In darkness nevermore to grope — 

"For thy gods, our God — mystery 

"Of blessed Holy Trinity; 

"The Father since the world began — 

"Creator, yet the son, of Man ! 

"His law is love, his service peace, 

"Wherein the soul finds sweet release 



TUnber tPQlblcb (Bo& ? 



"From all the fetters of the mind 

"Forged by the gods that make thee blind; 

"And by this sign thou mayest know 

"How we, his people, love him so : 

"That, as ye would receive from me 

"So shall I render unto thee. 

"If thou but turnest to repent, 

"Behold the holy sacrament ! 

"Thy well-deserved and rich reward 

"All that the earth can e'er afford ; 

"Honors and glory, wealth, renown, 

"The sceptre and the royal crown, 

"And generations yet to bless 

"Thee, source of all their happiness. 

"Refuse, and better for this land 

"That ev'ry native's treacherous hand 

"Should stretch forth for the priestly knife 

"To turn on thee ; and thy poor life 



64 



mn^cv Mbtcb Gob ? 



"Be last to slake the altar's thirst, 
"Since thou and thine come so accurst. 
"God over all gods he thy guide — 
"Under which one wilt thou abide?" 

So spake Cortez. And those who heard 
Quaked for the monarch's answering word 
Beheld him, sore perplexed but proud, 
And marked upon his brow a cloud, 
V/hich, fall'n on such a king as he. 
Betrayed his dire extremity. 
But whether — token of his pride — 
It fear, or wrath or pain implied, 
The shadow passed to come no more : 
The Man again was Emperor. 

"I know, Malinche,"-'' he replied, 
"Thou art from God. Not Chance's tide 

■-•' A name popularly applied to Cortez by the Indians, 

65 



Illnber Mbtcb Gobi 



"Nor idle whim of luckless Fate, 
"That might on lesser fortunes wait, 
"Hath brought thee to the Aztec shores. 
"Straight as the tireless eagle soars 
"O'er mountain, flood and lowly dale, 
"Braving the face of icy gale 
"Or floating careless of the sun, 
"Thou and thy hosts thy course have run 
"From where the deep, mysterious sea 
"Gave thee to immortality. 
"I know thou art from God — and these, 
"Thy followers. The very breeze 
"That wafted thee whence none can tell 
"Is thine to summon and compel, 
"And when fierce passion flames thy soul 
"The lightnings flash, the thunders roll. 
"I know thou art from God. And yet 
"Shall Montezuma's soul forget 



66 



mn^er Timbtcb 0ot)? 



'The gods his ancient fathers knew ? 
''Shall I be false, while they be true? 
"Thou speakest wonders to my heart 
"That ne'er before had counterpart. 
"Thy law is Love — thus sayest thou — 
"But for my love ye take no vow, 
"If any tender tie remain 
"To call me to my own again, 
"When falls the dark and fateful day 
"Wherein my people I betray. 
"Peace be the service of thy Lord, 
"Yet bear ye hither spear and sword 
"And all the trappings e'er before 
"Have been the sign and seal of war." 

The Aztec paused, but not to note 
The blanching cheeks his words had smote. 
Beseechingly, half-bowed he stood. 
More grief than anger in his mood. 
67 



XDlnbet Timbtcb (5o^? 



Eyes on his chief in stern appeal, 
Hands quick to draw his glist'ning steel, 
Each Spaniard blessed his patron saint 
And cursed his soldierly constraint. 

Again the King: "Born to command, 
"I know no master in this land. 
"Here are my people — happy, free, 
''Daughters and Sons of Destiny. 
''Content to know the simple ways 
"Of useful toil, their peaceful days 
"Pass cloudless 'neath our blessed sun, 
"That smileth on each work well done. 
"Behold the wonders we have wrought, 
"Our priceless treasure, dearly bought, 
"Our palaces and homes, our fields 
"And all their ample richness yields. 
"Here dwelt our fathers, here they died; 
"Hence sped their spirits on the tide 



mnDer 'IK^bich i3o^? 



That mounteth where none may pursue, 
'Beyond the far empyrean blue. 
'Here are our sacred altars reared 
'Unto the God whom we have feared ; 
'Here are our loves, our liopes, our fate — 
'None other comes but comes too late! 
'And as for thee and all of thine, 
'Make common cause with me and mine; 
'Fold thy white wings upon the wave, 
'Here make thy home, thy bed, thy grave 
'But nevermore invoke a flame 
'To kindle Aztec cheeks with shame ! 
'Our God, our worship is our own — 
'The stranger's, his, and his alone. 
'Thus peace and mercy unto thee — 
'My throne, my people — God — for me !" 

Zeal of conscience, greed of gain, 
What error at thy door has lain : 



lunger Mbicb (Bob? 



How the good Earth has writhed and groaned 

When Bigotry has been enthroned ! 

What bleeding hearts, what countless tears, 

What wounds, what waste in all the years, 

For lack of human sympathy, 

And saving grace of charity ! 

As Passion and Religion go, 

So it befell in Mexico, 

While Spain, bold in her proudest age, 

Gave history its darkest page. 

So came the tempest and tha flood, 

So streams ran red with human blood ; 

Though plains should tremble, cities fall 

And Madness mock at Mercy's call, 

What if sword cleave and fire consume, 

What if the desert steal the bloom 

Of fairest lands beneath the sun — 

Fit carnival for the Infernal One ! — 



70 



VXn^cv XKIlbicb Gob? 



The Church received the holy gain, 
And all the gold belonged to Spain ! 

Under which God? Seek ye the ways 
Of kindness, and the evil days 
Come not — not even to the shrine 
Of him whose faith is not as thine. 



71 



^be ffiabi?*6 ^runft 




ERE'S the trunk for the baby's trip 
around the world and back, 
Locked with locks, stayed with stays, 
ready to toss on the hack ; 
By land and sea, by airship line or fleeting auto- 
mobile 
'Tis a gay little trunk and full of spunk, and 

sound and true and real. 
A hinge to lift the lid high up and slam it down 

again, 
Two parts within for mysteries not understood 

by men ; 
A little blue skirt to keep the cold from dainty 

limbs away, 
A little watch with a silver chain to tell the time 

of day ; 



72 



XJbe Babi^'5 tCrunf? 



A little cap with ribbon strings to tie beneath 

the chin — 
My soul ! when baby packs her trunk what things 

she does put in ! 

A little 'kerchief to dry her eyes — perhaps to 

blow her nose — 
Some perfumed drops to bring to mind the frag- 
rance of the rose ; 
A little book to make a note of ev'ry clime and 

town, 
And a pencil with a rubber tip to write the facts 

all down. 
For nether ends to hold the warmth, a pair of 

knitted socks. 
For t'other end a priceless comb to straighten 

out her locks. 
Of underwear and overwear a never-ceasing 

spread. 

73 



Zbc :fl3ab^*0 ttrunfe 



Some names of which are common and others 

seldom said; 
And, last of all, for her bill of fare, tucked all 

else underneath. 
Tied with a string of lovely blue is a toothpick 

for her teeth i 
My soul ! when the journey's o'er and it's opened 

with a shout, 
From her precious trunk what countless things 

the baby does take out 1 

So get your check and catch your train — don't 
worry in the least — 

The route is with the sunbeam that's rising in 
the east. 

By land and sea, by airship line or fleeting auto- 
mobile 

'Tis a gay little trunk and full of spunk, and 
sound and true and real. 
74 



tCbe IBaWs tLrunft 



God speed its travels — so say I — and bless its 

mistress, too; 
That is the way, on Christmas Day, I'm sure 

He loves to do ! 



75 



fIDona&nocfe 




UARD of the valleys, captain of the hills, 
Monadnock, hoary-headed cone, 
Silent but eloquent, thy grandeur thrills 
The living world around thy throne, 
Where, mighty in the awe-inspiring state 

Of kingship, turnest thou thy gaze 
Triumphant to the sun — master of Fate, 
Mute sentinel of endless days. 

Snow-crowned, clad in verdure of the pine, 

Or veiled beneath the lowering cloud. 
The majesty of armed peace is thine. 

White be thy robe or dark thy shroud. 
Though Earth give welcome to the golden dawn, 

Or night winds lull the sleeping fields, 
Thy constant watch goes ever on and on, 

Thy vigil to no tempter yields. 
16 



/IDonabnocft 



Sombre thy visage, mirrored in the lake 

Whose bosom heaves for love of thee; 
Chill the reply the gentle breezes take, 

That bring fond tidings from the sea ; 
Crimson the blush of eve'ning's roseate skies, 

Since thou no tender mood betray; 
Sadly the longing summer grieves and dies 

For one response in one sweet day. 

Yet, like the self-contained, impassive soul. 

That, silent, loves for good or ill, 
As pearls lie hid where deepest waters roll, 

Grim mountain, thou art faithful still; 
And though fair Nature wooes thee all in vain 

And thou would'st have her think thee cold, 
Her frailest flowers safe in thy breast have lain. 

Bedewed with tears, from days of old. 



77 



®ne l^ear 




YEAR? So long? How swift its 

passing seems, 
Like some winged spirit flitting on 
before — 
Gone, as the memories of delightful dreams. 

Come nevermore! 
Save, precious one, th' unfolding of thy grace, 

The music of a voice that rings so true — 
Thy look demure, thy gentle upturned face. 
Say, 'T love you!" 

The rarest gem and sweetest-scented flow'r 

Most beautiful in isolation seem ; 
The lonely star that beams at midnight hour 

Hath brightest gleam. 
So was the year thou camest rare, indeed : 

78 



iS>ne ISear 



The parched earth never longed more for the 
dew 
Than Love for thee ; 'tis faith enough and creed, 
That I love you ! 

Dear year, dear year ! fair oasis of days, 

Drear v/ere the desert of my lonely lot, 
And darkened hours would mock the sunniest 
rays, 

Had'st thou come not. 
And thou, sweet one, whose presence tempers 
pain 
And lights the beacon of my life anew, 
Come hither, take my hand and learn again 
How I love you ! 



79 



3Boa3 to 1Rutb 



WOULD not ask vvhate'er thou would'st 
not give, 
I would not seek save what thou bad'st 
me find ; 
I vv^ould not Hve but for thy sake to live, 
Whatever lured me and thou still were kind. 

I would not knock, but thou were at the door, 
I would not give, but that thou did'st receive ; 

I would not trust, but that thou trusteth more, 
I would not promise, save thou should'st 
believe. 

I would not hope, but as thou say'st, "Hope on !" 

I would not muse, were musing not of thee ; 
I would not gem with stars my horizon, 

Save thou were brightest of the galaxy. 

80 



iBoas to 1Rutb 



I would not be a king, but on my throne 

Thou reignest queen of all my heart's estate; 

I would not be a slave, save thine alone, 
To yield to thee my service and my fate. 

I would not pray, but by thy altar's light, 

To share the grace God gave thee from above ; 

For me no task by day, no dream by night. 
But tells the blessed story of our love. 



81 




tTo a Sleeping Cbil& 

HAT fancies of thy tireless brain 
Chase one another in thy sleep, 
And, fleeing fast, return again. 
As shadows on the fitful deep 
Pursue the wave and brave its crest — 
Then disappear in Ocean's breast? 
What phantoms seem 
To haunt thy dream 
And rob thee of thy perfect rest ? 

And now what happy little sprite 
Makes thee to smile so peacefully, 

As if the Angel of the Night 

Had set thy childish troubles free? 

What fairy's kiss from off thy brow 

Effaced that tiny frown just now? 



Uo a Sleeping CbilD 



Do spirits keep 
Watch o'er thy sleep 
As pure, as innocent as thou? 

Art dreaming of the wakeful day, 

Its joys and sorrows, hopes and fears? 
Tlie sunlight and the birds' sweet lay — 
The shadows, disappointments, tears? 
Dost know in far-off Slumberland 
The love-pat of thy father's hand, 
Or hear once more, 
As oft of yore, 
Thy mother's voice, and understand? 

Or is thy soul from earthly ties 

Free as the stars that gem the night, 
Watching Elysian glories rise 
In some far Eden of delight? 



83 



Zo a Sleeping Cbil6 



If so thou gatherest flowers there, 
Thou art thyself the one most fair. 

Yet all alone 

Wouldst thou be gone, 
And I not near, thy joy to share? 

There is a veil that God hath drawn 

Across the parting of our ways, 
That none may lay his hand upon. 

Its folds to put aside or raise, 
Save Sleep or Death his guardian be. 
I would in either that with thee. 
Dear little heart, 
I might depart, 
To bear thee loving company. 



84 



Zhc ©ain of Xivina 




HINK not that in one life's completed 
span 
There is less joy than sorrow ; were 
it so 

Then all that live were underneath the ban 
Of that mysterious shadow, which doth throw 
A strange, odd darkness over all below 
That in Love's portion longeth for no share; 

For, since existence takes its peaceful flow 
From rising in the Infinite, the heir 
Of such divinity must fitly bear 

The imprint of his Maker's blessedness. 
Thus ev'ry soul is born not to despair, 

But hath its meed of pleasure, more or less ; 
And though its earthly flight be high or low, 
It hath more cheer than grief, more joy than woe. 



85 




^0 a Bribe 

LOUDLESS skies of tranquil days, 
Ties of kindred, faith of friends ; 
No sun obscured, no darkened rays, 
But all that true love comprehends 
This be the portion of the day 
That gives so fair a bride away ! 

Morning's calm : The magic dav/n 
Of youth's sweet promise, rosy-hued; 

Hope, winged and girded, Icadeth on, 
Inspiring in her eager mood. 

Behold, the vales of living green 

Await the coming of their Queen ! 

High Noon : The toilers are a-field ; 
Triumphant Love, his day full-blown, 



86 



Uo a Bribe 



Stands boldly forth with sword and shield 

And claims Creation for his own. 
Eyes gaze in other eyes and see 
Sweet depths of tender loyalty. 

Sunset : A single star's faint glow, 
Night waits beyond the crimsoned hill; 
But Love, dear Love, he will not go — 

His constancy abideth still : 
For there is one at Eventide, 
Despite the years, is still a bride. 

Tranquil days with cloudless skies, 
Ties of kindred, faith of friends ; 

No broken vows, no tearful eyes, 
But all that true love comprehends : 

For all the years thus be the day 

That gives so fair a bride away ! 



87 




Srt Hgainet IRature 

^HEN some great painter a grand work 
essays, 
Puts bnish to canvas in a lofty theme 
Of clouds or sky or sunlight's piercing 
rays, 
The world must pause to note each golden 
gleam 
And sing the artist's everlasting praise. 

Each touch of art that makes the picture true, 
Each line that shows the present master hand. 

Each fleeting cloud hard striving to subdue 
The glancing shafts of light shot o'er the land ; 

Each color blending with the azure blue, — 

Each mark of genius — is proclaimed to mean 
A thought that life from inspiration draws. 

88 



Hrt Hgatnst Bature 



The critics haste to criticism keen, 
And wonder and exclaim, because 
A man hath pictured forth so fair a scene. 

But when th' eternal God in outlines pure 
Reveals the dome of Heaven overhead, 

To chann the soul, the senses to allure, 
Man, only to the artificial bred, 

What he might well adore will scarce endure. 

So often the best things in life we see 
Hardly to remark, almost to ignore ; 

The gifts least loved are those God makes most 
free, 
And bounteous Nature, yielding up her store 

PvCceives the thanks of heartless apathy. 



^0 a — 

B jfragmcnt 




HY mind and mine have followed in the 

course 
Of pure and holy love, that takes its 

way 
Over all obstacles that interpose 
To block the path of passions less divine. 
In sorrow I have loved thee, and thou me; 
In joy and gladness, too, we were as one, 
When passing clouds obscured the happy sky, 
Or, shifting, did disclose the burning sun. 
As in the firmament the peaceful stars 
Give forth the radiant light of Heaven 
Like looks from angels' eyes; as thro, the wood 
The constant stream winds heedless of its course. 
So hath our love been — infinite in change, 

90 



Zo H 

Like fleeting seasons' rounds, but always blest. 
Through all the strange vicissitudes of life 
I ne'er have loved thee but with all my heart ; 
With all my strength and mind, with all my soul : 
So do I love thee still, and ever shall — 
Forever and forever. 



91 



1bU0b, B?e ffii?e 




USH, bye bye, shut your eye, 
Go to sleep J little baby; 
When you wake you shall have 
coachie, coachie, 
Coach and six, coach and six little ponies, 
Tzvo browns, two bays, two dappled grays. 
To take the baby riding T 

Songs of the cradle lull the world to sleep — 
Cradle songs, soft on the billowy deep — 

"Hush, bye bycy shut your eye" — 

Of the boundless ocean that men call Life, 
Stilling its storm and staying its strife — 

"Go to sleep, little baby!' — 



Ibusb, B^c Bpe 



Though the lone journey be weary and long, 
Who shall not rest with the cradle's song? — 

'When you wake you shall have'' — 

Songs of the cradle from lips that are stilled 
God in His infinite wisdom has willed — 

"Coach and six little ponies'' — 

Has willed them to live in His kingdom again — 
Cradle songs of the children of men. 

''Tzvo hrozmis, tzuo bays, two dappled grays" — > 

Far be the haven or bleak be the shore, 
Songs of the cradle shall cease nevermore. — 

''To take the baby riding" — 

Though the lone journey be weary and long, 
Who shall not rest with the cradle's song? 



1bit0b, 3B^e Bi?e 



"Hush, bye bye, shut your eye, 

Go to sleep, little baby; 
When you zuake you shall have coachie, coachie^ 
Coach and six, coach and six little ponies, 

Tzvo browns, izvo bays, two dappled grays, 

To take the baby riding T 



H 




^be Son of fIDan 

ELL nigh two thousand years ago, 

In Heaven's diadem, 
Shone o'er Judea, lying low, 
The Star of Bethlehem ; 
And in the glistening firmament 
It flashed, the fairest gem. 

Where fell its warmest, purest ray 

The Wise Men came and knelt. 
And while they prayed the touch of Day 

The fields and hilltops felt. 
Earth knew her Lord, in whom alone 

Grace, Love and Mercy dwelt. 

So runs the tale. Its every word 
The nations long have known. 



95 



Ube Son of /[l>an 



In chants and hymns and anthems heard 

It spread from zone to zone 
And spoke ahke by peasant's cot 

And sovereign's august throne. 

The whids that sighed o'er Nazareth 

And breathed on GalHlee, 
That soothed the hour of coming death 

In drear Gethsemane 
To milHons yet unborn proclaimed 

The Lamb of Calvary. 

Scribes wrote him down the Prince of Peace 

And nations hailed him Lord, 
V/ho gave from earthly cares release 

None other might afford. 
So him who asked but to be loved 

They worshiped and adored. 



96 



tlbe Son of /IDan 



He wrought for human brotherhood — 

They did but misconceive; 
He taught men only to be good — 

They forced men to beheve, 
And through his artless speech they sought 

A mystery to weave. 

A thousand legends oft retold 

Of miracles and signs 
Gave Superstition iron hold 

Upon Religion's shrines, 
As grafted to the sturdy oak, 

Cling close the poison vines. 

About his gentle life they wove 

A net of cruel creeds ; 
Fear, narrowness and fancy strove 

To meet immortal needs, 



97 



Ube Son of /iDan 



And as they planted ignorance 
So multiplied the seeds. 

But there is that which God hath made 

That Man cannot undo ; 
He cannot bid the sunshine fade, 

Nor mar the rainbow's hue; 
He cannot stay the silent flight 

That unknown worlds pursue. 

No more can he make more divine 

Nor less pure and serene 
The soul that looked from eyes benign 

That smiled on Palestine, 
When Jesus walked before his God — 

The humble Nazarene. 



98 




Zo (5. 6. 1R, 

HEN memory lightens the effort of 
thinking, 
And prompts one's austerity so to 
unbend 

That a glass of good wine is worthy the drinking, 
'Tis sweetest to drink to the health of a friend. 

So, Ruggles, let never the bowl be forbidden 
That promises closer our friendship to knit ; 

'Twere rarest of vintage if in it were hidden 
A taste of thy humor or spark of thy wit. 

If asked once of thee, Is life worth the living? 
The need for an answer could hardly appear; 
'Tis found in the fact of thy constantly giving 
Some pleasure to others who know thy good 
cheer. 

99 



tofC. 



^0 e. (5. iR. 



For knowing, 'tis written, is surely believing, 
And what better knowledge, indeed, can there 
be 
Than that given those who have long been re- 
ceiving 
The proofs of the manhood that dominates 
thee? 

Like the stream that thou lovest descending the 
mountain, 
Refreshing the fields in its fall from on high. 
Thy life and its sunshine is drawn from a 
fountain 
As clear as the light it reflects from the sky. 



100 




fIDclkinlei? 

IVE me thy strong right hand, O Death — 

Thy strong right hand. 
With pulsing heart and quickening 
breath 
Thy dumb command 
I note. Where fields celestial are 
I see thy citadel afar, 
And, just beyond, the evening star — 
I understand ! 

Show me the darkened way — His way. 

The glass is run, 
And with its hour now yields the day 

So sweetly won ! 
Not ours to name the time or place, 
But God's — God's endless love and grace; 



101 



/IDclkinte^ 



And thus I meet him face to face — 
His will be done! 

So kindly Death, with tender care, 

The patient soul 
Led on. Soft fell the morning air 

Across the shoal, 
Far from the sound of tolling bells, 
Where Spiritland its glory tells, 
And tides make music of the swells 

Life's waters roll; 

Till, presently, the morn, — the bright 

Eternal morn. 
Where, cradled in the Infinite, 

God's love was born ; 
And Faith and Hope their vigils keep. 
Nor pain for them that wake or sleep. 



102 



/iDclRtnte^ 



Nor sorrow more for them that weep 
Or them forlorn. 

Twas thus McKinley found the way — 

The narrow one — 
And smiled upon the dying day 

At setting sun. 
Not ours to name the time or place, 
But God's — God's endless love and grace. 
And so he met Him face to face — 

His will be done! 



103 



TPClb^ Santa Claua (trieb 




HERE'S a queer little story I scarce 

understand. 
It comes from the region of Goodfairy- 

land ; 

For its hero is one whom you know very well, 

But I doubt that you ever heard any one tell 

This curious yarn — bless his innocent soul ! — 

Showing Santa Claus in a most singular role. 

You have heard of his goodness, his gifts and 

his jokes, 

As, when we were younger, heard we older folks ; 

But here is related how, one Christmastide, 

Instead of rejoicing, poor Santa Claus cried! 

All because of a little one like unto you. 

Who never imagined what Santa would do, 

And was quite unprepared for tears and a kiss. 

(When confided to me the tale was like this :) 
104 



mbi? Santa Clau6 c:rte^ 



The jolly old man had reined up his deer 
Just before a small cottage, whose inmates, I 

fear. 
Had ever been strangers to all the good things 
That his visit to earth ordinarily brings. 
For the children within hardly knew what it 

meant 
To have Christmas at all, but had to content 
Their sad little eyes with peeps on the sly 
At the beautiful gifts they never could buy. 
But yet they dared hope that St. Nick on his tour 
Would not overlook them, although they were 

poor. 

Their faith was well grounded; for on the 
same night 
When this story begins, he was seen to alight 
On the topmost roof of their lowly abode. 
Then, chuckling a bit, to the chimney he strode. 
105 



Mbi^ Santa Glaus drte^ 



Down its dark entrance he cleverly crept 
Into the room where the little ones slept. 

The stockings were filled with the choicest of 

toys 
And candy and sweets for girls and for boys. 
Then he turned to remount, but paused on his 

way 
To glance at a cot in the corner, where lay 
A scared little girl, who — what do you think ? — 
With wide-open eyes had slept not a wink ! 
She dared not to move, lest Santa should know, 
Yet hardly could tell what made her feel so; 
But e'er she could wonder what next would 

betide, 
Lo! Santa Claus stood at the bed by her side. 

He stooped o'er the little one, frail and so 

meek, 

And pressed a light kiss on her pale, tiny cheek. 
106 



Mb^ Santa Claus (Trtet) 



He was gone in an instant, again on his flight, 
And the sound of his bells rang clear on the 

night ; 
But something he left he never has missed, 
On the gentle young face he had tenderly kissed. 
What was it? The little one, trembling with 

fear. 
Raised her hand to her cheek, and found there 

— a tear ! 

Then she thought to herself, "Why does Santa 

Claus cry? 
"Has somebody scolded him? Surely, not I!" 
But with all of her guessing she ne'er could find 

out 
What Santa Claus' crying was ever about; 
Till one day — the thought must have come from 

above — 
"I know why he cried," whispered she, ''if zms 

lover 107 



Zhc flD)?6teri2 




EAR God, Thou knowest how she came 
to me, 
Thy tidings in her tender care; 
Thou knowest how Thou destined it to 
be, 
That she should come — so pure, so fair ! 
What messenger of grace was e'er so sweet, 

What needy one so poor as I ? 
Lo, at Thy word she came, and at her feet 
I learned of Thee my destiny. 

With what compassion of her gentle eyes 
She gazed on me, Thou knowest. Lord; 

How tenderly she spoke and bade me rise, 
And how I trembled at her word ; 

How as a rescued soul before its shrine 

I blessed her hand, her brow, her hair — 
108 



tlbe /iDi^steti? 



Thou knowest all, dear God ; the grace was Thine, 
For Thou it was who sent her there. 

Thou knowest how her spirit leadeth me 

And how I follow on ; by day 
Joint heirs of Thy divinity, 

By night pursuing still Thy way. 
Or if we rest where cooling shadows fall, 

Or, heedless, court the noon-day sun, 
Thou knowest still I hold her all in all — 

She whom Thou gavest — precious one ! 

Behold, dear God, this mystery divine 

I fathom not. By what blest fate 
Thy Providence makes such sweet glory mine 

Is not for me to contemplate. 
I can but wonder at Thy graciousness — 

So dear a gift for my unworthy lot — 

This mystery of mysteries I bless. 

And pray it shall forsake me not ! 
109 



^be fi&itor 




HE editor sat in his easy chair 

Because the world's destiny kept him 

there. 
His salary, also, — if you ask — 
Assisted in nailing him down to his task, 
But the principal thing that set the pace 
For his genius was the good of the race. 
He said it himself, and that made it so, 
For he, if anyone, ought to know I 

It wasn't so easy a chair at that, 
Nor the salary mentioned overfat; 
But these conditions were incident to 
The essential work he had to do — 
Not fundamental, original facts, 
To warp his mind or shape his acts; 



no 



Zbc BMtot 



Mere trifles, light as the winds that blow, 
Compared with the things he had to know. 

No odds to him what interests came 

Beneath his view — it was all the same. 

Religion, science, art, education, 

A dog fight or the fate of the nation, 

Wake or wedding, peace or war, schemes to fix 

In realms of business or politics, 

Law or larceny, sweetness or gall — 

The editor man he knew it all ! 

The world would have thought it wondrous 

strange, 
If ever a task had passed his range ; 
And he himself had a sneaking notion 
That his brain had struck perpetual motion, 
Which, turned into his industrious pen. 
Made life worth living for his fellow-men, 
111 



iLbc iBDltor 



Affording a glimpse to them here below 
Of the things an editor has to know. 

The government waited on his advice, 
Delivered free, without money or price ; 
Vast armies marched and great navies sailed 
On receipt of his paper, properly mailed, 
And if the pound-master caught the wrong cow, 
The editor told him when, where and how. 
There was no hesitation — thus and so 
It was with the man who had to know. 

He could tell of deep plots before they began, 
How to raise hair on a bald-headed man, 
Whom to elect to places of trust. 
What bank was solid and what sure to bust ; 
When to get married and when to repent, 
And how to save money, although it was spent. 



m 



Ube BMtor 



No wonder he had the wide world at his call, 
For didn't the editor know it all? 

So the editor sat in his easy chair, 
Since the world's destiny kept him there; 
Besides, 'twas his custom to sit and sit. 
Because he felt certain that he was "It" ; 
And still he continued to set the pace 
Of ev'ry quest for the good of the race, 
Faithful to see that it never was slow 
On the part of him who had to know. 

Alas! some day, without much fuss, 

That chair will be vacant, and some other cuss 

Will come along and hold it down ; 

And the editor — well, he won't be in town. 

But, mark my words, about that time, 

As sure as this is a solemn rhyme, 

As sure as the leaves of Autumn fall, 

The editor man will know it all. 

m 



mot rilMne 

HEARD to-day how over the way 
My neighbor sits and grieves, 
With soul so worn and heart so torn 
For a love that is withered leaves. 



I heard to-day how over the way 

A child's hand loosed a toy 
And took Death's own, who claimed alone 

My neighbor's little boy. 

And when I heard, the selfish word 

Of selfish thought was sign : 
"Be glad my heart — not thine the dart — 

Thank God he was not mine!" 

Not mine, not mine! The sun may shine, 
The skies be blue for me; 
114 



IRot /IDtne 



Life still is sweet in my retreat 
And there, strong-limbed, is he. 

O selfish Love, how swift to prove 
More human than divine ! 

Shall I forget? And yet — and yet 
Thank God he was not mine! 



115 



Zbc Hutbor to 1bi6 Crtttce 

Criticise with impunity, 

Scan with particularity; 
Now is your opportunity 

To mitigate the rarity — 
So marked in each community — 

Of truly Christian charity ! 



116 



Zbc Beeerteb 1bome0tcab 




ONELY, forsaken, desolate it stands, 
Its sombre outline carved against 
the sky ; 
Unbroken solitude envelops all, 
Save for the wild bird's shrill, discordant cry, 
The bay of hunters' hounds on distant hills, 

The music of the winds or noisy flow 
Of waters rushing on in pebbly rills. 

'Twere sweet, if not so sad, to feel thy spell, 
Deserted homestead ! The quickening heart 

Thy solemn grandeur wakes to solemn things; 
Impulsive recollections swiftly dart 

Through sympathetic minds, as thy impress 
Is sealed upon the memory of those 

Who contemplate thy passing loneliness. 



117 



tibe Deserteb 1bome5tea^ 



The rank weed grows in ruthless wantonness 
Where once the feet of children pressed the 
stones ; 

The hush of Death is on the chamber walls 
That echoed long ago their happy tones. 

The loathsome spider weaves a silken thread 
Across the window, where the pattering rain 

Tattoos a gentle requiem for the dead. 

The sun that smiled upon thee years ago, 
In those long past, almost forgotten days, 

Is still the same unchanging visitor; 
The same moon's silvery, calm and steadfast 
rays 

Still light the trellis where the grapevines climb ; 
The same breeze stirs the leaves to gentle sighs 

As lulled the meadows in the olden time. 



118 



Ube Deserted Ibomesteab 



But those who knew the countless peaceful 
charms 
That Nature set around thee, all are gone! 
The graveyard on the hillside tells the tale 
Of how the Earth has claimed them, one by 
one; 
And the old homestead after all survives, 

To mock the years while still it may recall 
The simple lessons of their simple lives. 



119 



fRu flDotber'0 portrait 




AIR portrait of a fairer face, 

Consoler of my saddened mood, 
Sweet counterfeit of sweeter grace. 
The sign and seal of motherhood ; 
Kindly thine eyes that gaze on me, 

Gentle thy smile, serene thy brow — 
Mother, 'tis all I know of thee, 
From my low cradle until now ! 

Behold, the years have slipped away 

As sands within the hour-glass fall. 
And in no golden, childish day 

Knew I thy touch nor heard thy call ; 
Till, grown at last to man's estate. 

To think, to feel, to understand, 
Lo, here is all my filial fate — 

To hold this portrait in my hand. 



m 



the ffiolater Club 



KNOW not how ever the strange fate 
befell, 
What magic turned backward the foot- 
steps of Time — 
A yarn quite as true as 'tis shady to tell, 

But wondrous if uttered in prose or in rhyme — 
Turned backward the years we were destined 
to meet, 
Made children of those who had thought they 
were men 
And showed us a garden, where, fragrant and 
sweet. 
Our youth's early roses were blooming again ! 

I know not the method, but here is the proof: 

The souls that were loyal when childhood was 

bright 

121 



XTbe Bolster Club 



Are gathered once more beneath one friendly 
roof, 
The same as of yore, though but just for 
to-night ! 
Who cares for the loss of the intervened space? 
Does . anyone answer ? Then show him the 
door! 
The silence that follows, the look on each face— 
Ah, the roses of youth are blooming once more ! 

The roses of youth — who shall cast them aside? 

Not he who was born to gaze up at the sun. 
Sweet flowers of days that no evil betide. 

The first in the care of the Infinite One ! 
The miser may slight them to worship his gold. 

The drunkard forget them in praise of his 
wine, 
But he who is worthy the friendships of old 

Will love the first roses on memory's vine. 
122 



Zbc Bolster Club 



Then blest be the fortune of each happy hour 
With sweetness distilled from the buds of the 
Past, 
Treasured each leaflet and precious each flow'r — 
Who knows but these clusters to-night are 
the last? 
Away with the slander of heads turning gray, 
None here has known trouble or sadness or 
tears ; 
Life is all pleasure, no work but just play, 
And the roses of youth still bloom with the 
years. 



123 



Xtbree IDotces 



125 



^bree IDoicee 




EST and sleep, sleep and rest, 
Nature is kind to the weary ; 
Children of Earth, whom she longeth 
to bless, 

Know ye the mood of her deep tenderness? 
Rest and sleep, sleep and rest, 
Spiritland ne'er shall be dreary. 

Sleep and rest, rest and sleep, 
Light in the darkness is breaking ; 
Lo, on the mountains the watch-fires gleam, 
Gentle the voices that speak in thy dream. 
Sleep and rest, rest and sleep, 
Blest be the hours ere waking! 

Dream, dream, slumber and dream, 

Angels of Truth bending o'er thee; 
127 



Ubree IDoices 



Whither the waves of Eternity roll 
Dreaming shall open the gates of the soul. 
Dream, dream, slumber and dream, 
God and His goodness before thee! 



128 



tEbree IDolces 



IDoice tbe Jtrst 

Peace, troubled heart : I am an aged man — 
Too old to list to thy complaints or heed 
Thy phantasies. My age sits heavy on me 
And I oft have wished that I might one day be 
A victim of my sickle; but to me 
Death never comes. 

Yes, I am very old. 
My locks, that in the morn of earthly things 
Did shame the plumage of the raven's wings, 
Are whitened with the touch of Time ; my eyes. 
Once bright as lustrous gems, are dim with age ; 
I stroke my beard and falter in my step. 

Yet I have seen the strength of empires pass 

away; 
Have held within this outstretched hand the 

power 

129 



tTbtee \)oiccs 



To bless or to condemn ; to fill with hope 
The heart cast down by grief ; the arrogance 
Of pride and selfishness to blast ; the thrones 
Of kings to overthrow; the pow'r to deal 
To all humanity its weal or woe. 
So fallen generations of the race 
Paid tribute to the Spirit of the Past ! 

Of Earth's mysterious gloom, when Chaos 

reigned 
And brooding Night with piercing eye descried 
Naught save perpetual darkness in the world, 
I knew the infancy. To me the birth 
Of mortal life within the universe 
Was but the playful time of budding youth. 
Thus live I still, caused by that great First 

Cause — 
The One Omnipotent — who at His will 
Brought sunlight out of darkness and displayed 
130 



trbree \t)oice^ 



His own divinity to all mankind, 
Attuning to the music of the spheres 
That tender instrument, God's masterpiece, 
The Soul. 

The chosen people of the world 
Wore out the dreary years of their first light 
Beneath my gaze. Their father, Abraham, 
In whom the truth divine first had its dawn. 
Whose mighty heart beat in the breast of him 
Who later on gave Law unto his race, 
Sped o'er his earthly course marked and observed. 
The passage of the Hebrew host I viewed, 
When Moses through the waste of desert land 
Led on the people of his God. The walls 
Of high Jerusalem had not been reared, 
When from the summit of the lofty clouds 
The fields of Palestine beneath my feet 
Lay basking in the glory of the sun. 
131 



XTbree IDolces 



How followed on the footsteps of the Jews 
The inundation of the land with blood, 
Thou knowest ; how, when centuries rolled by, 
The love of sacrificial offerings. 
So long indulged with hateful rites by priests 
Whose superstitions ruled the peevish age, 
Brought on a time when naught would satisfy 
The lust of blood but that fair Innocence, 
Embodied in a sinless Man of Peace, 
Should be itself the last great sacrifice! 
O thou eternal scribe, who in the Heavens 
Dost keep man's record in the Book of Life, 
Blot from the compromising page the deed 
Of this misguided people and command 
That History shall be forever dumb ! 
O Galilee, whose liquid surface felt 
The imprint of the Master's feet, be still ; 
Nor whisper to the flowers upon thy banks 
The fate of Him who walked above thy wave ! 
132 



XTbree IDoices 



And Calvary, whose firm foundation groaned 
Beneath the weight of that upHfted cross, 
Whose soil gave to the sacred blood a grave, 
Seal thou thy lips, as they did seal his tomb ! 

Dread ye, indifferent soul, the blight 
Of mental ease and Apathy's rev/ard ; 
But thou immortal, free and resolute. 
Behold the meditations of thy dreams 
Unfold in ever blest realities ! 
Time lingers, but its pulsing measurements. 
The throbs of human hearts, but for a day 
Record the fleeting moments, and are lost. 
Nations may fall, and from their crumbled dust 
A hundred more may rise to power again ; 
But they and Man, frail creatures of an hour, 
Must share the dissolution of all things. 
Yet in the Heavenly volume of the saints 
These poor events are but the paragraphs 
133 



Ubxcc IDotces 



That make the chapters in the Book of Life. 
What would'st thou save from out the wreck of 

Earth? 
Of all the good that in thy heart doth dwell 
What would'st thou have in Heav'n made 

infinite ? 
Ambition? 'Tis a shining vanity 
That lures thee, then enchains thee, then deludes. 
Knowledge? Pause and compare thy boasted 

lore 
With the great Mind that rules the universe. 
Wealth, power, beauty? How Infinity 
Mocks the poor honors of vain-glorious clay! 
But Love ? Take Love, the sure, the holy key. 
Wherewith thou may'st unlock th' eternal gates! 

This is God's greatest boon to man — to love, 
Whether it be on Earth with human rites 
Or in the life whereto this leadeth on. 
134 



XTbree IDoice^ 



The benediction of the years abides 

With thee : Be thine the grace that conquers all, 

And to the joys of immortality 

The angels, waiting, shall receive thy soul ! 



Into the dark and boundless night 

The phantom spirit fled. 
I heard the rustle of his robes 

Like the night-wind overhead, 
And the solemn cadence of his voice 

Seemed from the buried dead. 

Alone in the falling darkness, 

Alone — my soul and I ! 
Each dared not meet the other's glance, 

Each dared not live or die. 

While quaking at the very breeze 

That gently passed us by. 
135 



ttbtee Dotcea 



How deep the silence of the hour, 
How long the shadows grew ! 

How ev'ry prayer that from the heart 
Was breathed to God anew 

Bore up its load of hope and fear 
As Heavenward it flew ! 

A pause : Oblivion and Death ? 

Nay, arbiter of dreams! 
Sleep, still, and rest ; rest, still, and sleep, 

While yet the watch-fire gleams. 
The voice of one who draweth near — 

How sweet, how true it seems ! 



m 



XTbree IDoicea 



IDolce tbe Second 

I am the spirit of the Present. Hear 
My words, for I shall never reappear 
To give thee counsel. What I now may say, 
Preserve and act upon until that day 
When ev'ry soul shall its transgression own 
And reap the harvest as the seed is sown. 

To live is to exist for better things, 
Since Death, the transient visitor, but brings 
The spirit out of darkness into light. 
Adds glory to the day, dispels the night. 
Rebukes all that is evil and makes free 
The blessedness of immortality. 
Yet doth thy share in future bliss depend 
Upon the motives that do shape thy end. 
Fulfilment of thy duty here below 
Must be the test wherein thou art to show 



W 



Ubree Voices 



Thy fitness for the future state. For thee 

The spirit life is but a destiny. 

Choice of a certain place whereto mankind 

Must come at last, is not of human mind. 

The narrow confines thou hast long been taught 

Do separate the dead who cheaply bought 

Salvation from such other sons of Earth 

As in the flesh ne'er tested virtue's worth, 

Exist in superstitious thought alone — 

To Reason false, to Justice quite unknown! 

Hence thou art not of Heav'n or Hell at will; 

The question with thy soul is. Wilt thou fill 

The spirit with the love that doth beget 

Eternal peace, or with a vain regret 

That, where thou dost surround a lesser sphere. 

Thou might'st have known a ten-fold greater? 

Here 
Is the choice, which to make thy soul compel. 
No bondage holds thee for a seat in Hell, 
138 



XTbree \Dotce0 



For God thy free decision doth await — 

Wilt make thy future compass small or great? 

The Past is buried deep within the tomb 
Around whose walls th' impenetrable gloom 
Hath gathered like an everlasting night. 
No welcome beam, no ray of Heav'nly light 
Illumes the path that leads through endless ways 
Back to Creation and the world's first days. 
Deeds done and motives framed and thoughts 

conceived, 
And all the wiles wherewith thou hast deceived 
Thy dormant conscience, to achieve its fall, 
Breed consequences thou canst not forestall. 
Repentance, in itself, availeth naught, 
Save as it lifts the soul by holy thought 
Up and beyond Earth's base and trifling things 
And plumes the spirit with an angel's wings. 
Hard though it be, and bitter like the draught 
That on the Mount of Suffering was quaffed; 
139 



XTbree IDotces 



And agonizing as the lot of those 

Whom many pious men would fain suppose 

Are tortured with eternal life in Hell — 

Doomed to be damned forever where they dwell — 

Hard though it be, thy mind must meditate 

Upon this meaning phrase : To expiate. 

In the nature of the Heavenly plan 

Provision is not made for sinning Man 

To dodge between God's justice and His love; 

The Law, conceived in perfect truth above — 

Itself all that is merciful and just, 

Eternal, omnipotent and august — 

Is the sole criterion of thy deeds, 

Administers to thy actual needs, 

Provides for living purpose and a cause — 

In Heaven and on Earth the Law of laws ! 

Since then the law, though merciful, is strict; 

Though granting much doth never once conflict 

With the great mind that made it to the end 



UO 



Hbree IDotces 



That none might e'er evade it, none might bend 
Its tendency and pose a saint redeemed, 
When posing so he once again blasphemed 
Against all right and truth; since it is true 
That mercy in the Law is nothing new — 
A self-existent essential of it 
And not in truth one jot above it — 
I bid thee know, obeyed its mercy stands 
Great as creation; but its just commands 
Once broken, know no mercy, save therein 
Is consequence proportionate to sin. 
No human mind so weak but can detect 
The tendency of evil and reflect 
Upon its end; and, so reflecting, know 
The expiation it must undergo; 
For as to God the attributes belong 
Of all that is infinite, so of wrong 
Committed 'gainst His laws, the consequence 
Is likewise infinite for each offense. 
141 



tTbtee Dotces 



XLbc Dreamer 

Then, Spirit, speak ! Why hast thou prom- 
ised me 
A new abode? Doth immortality, 
Dispensed by God with such a lavish hand, 
Grant naught but woe eternal and expand 
The limit of my agony and pain. 
Till ages countless as the drops of rain 
That fall from Heaven's vault seem but a day 
Lost in the flight of time? Is he astray 
From holy truth who in his heart believes 
That in some future state the soul retrieves 
Somewhat of error and mistake indulged 
Ere to his puny mind hath been divulged 
His destiny, the secret of his fate? 
Doth God grant knowledge only when too late? 
Speak, I implore thee, though the speaking cost 
The pain of certainty that I am lost! 
142 



tbtu tDotceg 



ZDc XDoicc 

Thy doubts, born not of thought, but sudden 

fear, 
Before the Hght of truth must disappear 
As overwhelming darkness fades and dies 
When morning's sun illumes the eastern skies; 
And in the glory of the new- born light 
Thy mind's awakening shall be as bright 
As budding dawn unfolding to full bloom. 
Or ray from Heav'n, dispelling endless gloom ! 
Have I not said that in the realm from 

whence 
Thy soul did emanate, the consequence 
Of evil deeds and God's law disobeyed 
Shall be in honest measure truly weighed 
With thy ill conduct and thy conscious guilt? 
Thy faith, upon the firm foundation built 
Of perfect confidence in love divine, 
U3 



tTbree Woices 



Should yield conception of God's great design. 

Of life immortal the celestial breath 

Was not breathed in thee that a living death 

Through all eternity should be thy lot — 

Accursed in Hell and upon Earth forgot. 

This bear in mind: Eternal law is just; 

It sanctifies no sin, nor doth it thrust 

A saintliness upon a few elect, 

And in the act all other souls reject; 

It provides no Innocent's sacrifice 

To insure the guilty in Paradise; 

But sternly speaks, in accents clear and strong, 

"Who findeth happiness must know no wrong." 

■ The distant future thou canst not define ; 
The Past is dead — the Present, only, thine. 
Then grasp it while it lingers, ere it fades 
Into that silent depth, where grieving shades 
Bend mourning o'er the grave of wasted time. 
I see the mighty spectacle — sublime 
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tTbree IDoicee 



And infinitely sad. The deep-drawn sighs 
Of spirits weeping o'er the spot where lies 
Lost Hope, with Love and fair Ambition near — 
All that we hold in life's sweet hour most dear — 
Are wafted to me on the midnight air. 
Nothing but tears and vain regret is there ! 
And wilt thou, too, lay in that silent grave 
The qualities that God in kindness gave, 
That thou might'st bear in life a noble part 
And in eternity a happy heart? 
Beware ! Existence is no paltry thing ; 
It hath an equal power to bless and sting. 

Thou hast heard. Let then, thine attentive 
ear 
With equal earnestness incline to hear 
The whispered counsels of thy inmost soul: 
Give Conscience in all things complete control; 
Make it the ruler o'er thy mind's domain, 
And like the music of some Heavenly strain 
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XTbree Dotces 



Whose gentle harmony, low, sweet and clear, 

Pervades the universal atmosphere, 

Until the baser senses feel the spell 

Of influences they can not repel. 

Its wondrous power shall keep thee undefiled 

Till thou with God in peace art reconciled. 



146 



Ubree Voices 



So saying, with a silent tread, 

Like one who walks amongst the dead 

In some secluded burying ground ; 
Or as a thoughtful priest might pace 
The corridors of some holy place. 

Betrayed not by a passing sound; 
The Spirit fleet in soft retreat 

Glided into the great Unknown, 

While whispered the breeze in an undertone, 

"A vision seen, a vision flown I" 

Seen, and forever unforgot! 

Flown, yet around the hallowed spot 

Where stood the Spirit a moment since. 
As a rose its sweetness doth distil, 
There lingered then and always will 

A consciousness to all-convince 
Th' uncertain mind, by doubt made blind, 

That One had been there who had graced 
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Ubxcc IDotces 



The courts of Heaven and embraced 
The joy of all things pure and chaste! 

Thus musing on the strange portent 

Of ev'ry wonderful event 

That passed before me like a dream, 

I caught the sound of voices singing — 

Now softly sweet, now loudly ringing — 
That to the list'ning ear did seem 

A Heav'nly strain, a glad refrain, 
Bearing the ecstacy of bliss 
Of those in a fairer world than this 
Who living had done least amiss. 

As, gazing into the Promised Land 

A soul on the mountain-top might stand, 

Hearing the music of the spheres, 
I paused, my heart two worlds between, 
And heard a hymn of powers unseen — 
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Xlbree IDolces 



The harmony of untold years. 
And this is the song th' angelic throng 
Sang of the triumphs of sacrifice 
And telling of One who should arise 
To speak the glories of Paradise ! 



m 



Ubree IDoices 



^be Cbant of tbe Bneels 

Eternal God ! Thou Perfect One alone 

Of all who bow the knee before Thy throne — 

Father of all — 
Thou who didst think, and with the thought 

evolve 
Th' material universe, and dissolve 
The sweets of life within the soul of man; 

We do recall 
The wondrous mercy of Thy mighty plan 
Conceived ere other life than Thine began ! 

i 

And dost Thou now to favors multiplied 
Like grains of sand upon the wild sea-side 

Year after year, 
Add this last token of Thy tender love 
For erring Man, who didst Thy pity move 



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Ubree Dotces 



When pierced him first of deadly sin the fang; 

When the first tear, 
The crystal symbol of his grief, o'ersprang 
Its bounds, the sad betrayer of a pang? 

Speed the Spirit on Heav'nly mission sent! 
Haste his departure, strengthen his intent! 

Cause Earth to know 
That Truth and Love survive and Mercy pleads, 
Though oft the heart, stricken and wounded, 

bleeds. 
Shuddering that no helper lifts the veil 

Of endless woe! 
O Father, let Thy messenger prevail, 
Teaching that faith in Thee can never fail ! 



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Ubree Doices 



IDotce tbe Ubtr^ 




EEKER of truth, who after righteousness 
Doth hunger and thirst as mortahty 

Longeth for that which is infinite, Peace ! 
Thou who dost meditate on sacred 

themes, 
Communing with another higher world 
Whose spirit forms, on wondrous errands sent, 
Appear before thee and their counsels give 
Of holiness, of virtue and of love; 
Thou mortal, first in history, for whom 
Time, backward turning from his onward course, 
Lets fall his secrets from his Spirits' lips; 
Who sees the past revealed and hears proclaimed 
The necessities of the present hour, 
As Heav'n gives welcome to the wandering soul 
Greets thee the day of thy enlightenment! 

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trbree IDoices 



I come, apostle of the living truth, 
Prophet of things that shall be, exponent 
Of things that are and have been. Dost thou 

hear 
An echo from the distant land, a sound 
Of great rejoicing, as Solomon heard 
Immortal psalms, sung by a thousand tongues, 
Resounding in the temple of the Jews? 
It is the deep, celestial harmony 
Of angels breathing worship to their God. 
And thou, too, in the hour that sets thee free, 
When on thy wondering gaze there breaks the 

dawn 
Of an eternal day, may'st be of them. 
Thy voice may join with theirs when Heaven 

peals 
With the glad praises of the King of kings ; 
And sharing in their song, so may'st thou share 
Their bes<- 'conceptions and their destiny — 
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tTbree IDoices 



To know the sweet repose of perfect peace; 
Not equally with each companion soul, 
But to thy uttermost. 

Yet here awhile 
In the brief season that men call Life, 
Ere Earth reclaims the graceful form she gave 
And manly beauty yields to loathsome dust; 
While still the soul clings to its mortal home, 
Looks calmly from thy eyes, and on thy brow 
Reflects the light of its own purity; 
Here, now in sorrow, now in happiness, 
In joy and grief, through tears and pleasant 

smiles, 
Shalt thou live on the life allotted thee. 

If blind to truth, seek not to see all things ; 
The tired brain must needs abjure its thought. 
If Reason satisfy thee not, beware! 
For where the Reason falters there comes Doubt, 
Thrusting his base deception in thy path, 
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Ubtee IDotce^ 



While Faith is left to die upon the way. 
Ask not, then, why thou livest, if to think 
Of living be a toil; gird up thy faith, 
And it shall all suffice, as at the feast. 
Though little be consumed, thou hast thy fill. 

Yet, if thou canst conceive the primal cause 
Whence spring the germs of life, the massive bulk 
Of the great material universe 
And all the myriad spirit forms that live, 
Some seen of mortal eyes and millions more 
Beyond the dark, impenetrable veil 
That screens what is to come from that which is ; 
Conceive thyself a part of God Himself, 
The incarnation of His thought divine; 
Living, because He lives, though all-endowed 
With power of shaping thine own destiny. 
Thou canst be what thou wilt ; not in a day, 
But in the end; for death is but a change. 
In which we hear the sweet and tender words 
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trbree IDotcea 



Of those who, standing on the farther shore, 
Beckon us on with kind and gentle smile, 
Bidding us be of courage, since we come 
Into their midst with welcome everywhere. 
So shalt thou share their struggles and their 

hopes — 
A tearful witness when some spirit falls, 
But joyful when he rises ; thus thy life, 
Like theirs, shall be of progress and of love — 
Bright as the morning sun, though oft the clouds 
Dim its refulgent beams and cast a gloom 
Over the landscape of thy fondest dreams. 

Be thou always resolute; bear thyself 
Not too exulting, but with dignity 
Born of the spirit's knowledge of its end; 
As one who on his person doth sustain 
The signs of perfect confidence and hope. 
Hold not too lightly in thy mind's esteem 
The trials death will open unto thee ; 
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Zbvcc IDoices 



Nor yet affect unreasonable fear 

Of what the future may contain for thee. 

Dreamer, thou livest in a time and age 
When wicked phantoms of a cruel fate, 
Long taught thee to be waiting for thy death, 
Are falling, one by one. Beyond recall 
Many are lost and buried in the Past, 
As many more shall be ; they are dead, 
Unwept, unheeded, and almost forgot. 
Let none alarm thee with a well-wrought tale 
Of an eternal punishment in store 
For disbelievers in a certain creed 
Or scorners of a most uncertain faith. 
Severe will be thy expiation, true; 
And infinite, but not forever laden 
With a crushing, ceaseless pain, greater tenfold 
Than sin could merit at the hands of God. 
Surely thou knowest one may suffer much 
And yet not heed. Yesterday I sinned; 
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Zbtcc IDolces 



To-day the pangs of vain remorse possess 
My every sense; to-morrow, or as years 
Like fleeting dreams pass by, I have forgot 
That I have sinned at all ; nor is the least, 
The smallest weight of consequence removed 
Or blotted from my deepest heart thereby; 
For as 'tis true that mortal suffering 
Is often measured by its falling short 
Of that which constitutes true happiness, 
Rather than by that which seems its deepest woe. 
So in the land that lies beyond the grave 
The lines of consequence are visible 
More clearly to the holier spirit's eye 
Than to the sinner who indulged the sin. 
The great Creator has but made his law. 
That justice cannot be revenge, and sin 
Shall its atonement earn, of such a kind 
As ev'ry soul is given strength to bear, 



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tTbree IDoices 



Man cannot ask for more than he is given. 
Endowed with that creative faculty 
Of mind and heart that shows a handiwork 
Wrought by Omnipotence, and conceived 
In the very ecstacy of power 
For a destiny higher than decay; 
And with his promised immortahty 
Displayed upon his outward, worldly self, 
As if his Maker's genius sought to prove 
The argument of the soul's existence 
To the world — thus made from God's own spirit 
And formed as one whose soul can conquer 

Death, 
Man is the masterpiece of creation. 
And rarest and most priceless of the gifts 
That in him bear fruition tc his soul, 
Are these two gems of immortality: 
Faith, Hope. 



159 



Zbxcc Dotce5 



As dew upon the tinted rose, 
Or rain on tender vegetation falls, 
So these congenial kindred qualities 
Refresh whate'er in spirit life they touch. 
Then slight not these to make thyself more strong 
In things that will inure less to thy good! 
Earth hath no comforter, nor Heav'n a boon 
Such as was given thee when in thy breast 
Faith had its birth and Hope first sprang to life. 
Thou wouldst not lose thy memory, nor think 
To profit by the loss of health or limb, 
And yet, through heedless scorn and long disuse 
Of gifts bestowed to elevate thee most, 
Wouldst suffer such to languish in decay 
And leave thee helpless in thy vaunted strength. 

Faith is the deep, wide harbor of the soul, 
Where the weary mariner, long at sea, 
Feasts his delighted eyes upon the shore, 
And satisfied that all is safe and well, 

160 



tlbree tDotces 



Sinks, like the waves receding, to his rest; 
And Hope, the star of promise in the skies, 
Casts one last beam upon his prostrate form. 



161 



tTbree Dotce^ 



Rest and sleep, sleep and rest, 
Nature is kind to the weary; 
Children of Earth, whom she longeth to bless, 
Know ye the mood of her deep tenderness? 
Rest and sleep, sleep and rest, 
Spiritland ne'er shall be dreary. 

Sleep and rest, rest and sleep, 
Light in the darkness is breaking; 
Lo, on the mountains the watch-fires gleam, 
Gentle the voices that speak in thy dream. 
Sleep and rest, rest and sleep, 
Blest be the hours ere waking! 

Dream, dream, slumber and dream, 
Angels of Truth bending o'er thee ; 
Whither the waves of Eternity roll 
Dreaming shall open the gates of the soul. 

Dream, dream, slumber and dream, 

God and His goodness before thee ! 
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DEC 31 W04 



